


Something About A Wedding

by lady_pembroke



Series: modern au cinematic universe [2]
Category: 16th Century CE RPF, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Developing Romance, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Humor, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_pembroke/pseuds/lady_pembroke
Summary: Anne had always loved weddings, but by the time they were halfway through the reception, the novelty had worn off significantly.





	Something About A Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place three years after the previous fic.

Anne had always loved weddings, but by the time they were halfway through the reception, the novelty had worn off significantly. She managed to escape the dancing after a few songs, but she still regretted not ditching her heels. Her feet were threatening mutiny and she hadn't even gotten off the floor yet.

The wedding itself hadn't been that bad. She had a severe weakness for dressing up and going to lavishly decorated parties, and the venue they'd chosen (with its white marble, floral arrangements, and green-and-gold fabric draped over every available surface) definitely qualified. Her father and Mary had both cried during the ceremony, and Anne herself had gotten a little misty at one point. Even dancing was fun for a while, though they'd moved to a hotel with a significantly less fancy atmosphere for the reception. But getting not-so-subtly paired off with random guys by her own family members quickly ruined the appeal.

Dodging around the clusters of people roving the room, Anne made a beeline for the hotel bar, then changed her mind. A final congratulations was in order before she took a break from the party.

This was easier said than done, of course. Right as she started across the floor, it seemed as though all the other guests had the same idea at once, and she had to fight through what felt like every member of the extended Boleyn-Howard family. Fortunately, she wasn't above using her elbows.

"Don't mind me," she muttered, stepping on the toe of yet another dress shoe. "Only the sister of the groom coming through."

"Anne?"

As if by magic, the crowd parted and Anne found herself face to face with her two favorite people.

They were aglow with happiness. She hadn't previously known that was possible outside the romance novels Mary liked, but apparently it was. Identical smiles lit up their faces, and they seemed unable to let go of each other's hands.

Before she could think of something to say, George pulled her into a one-armed hug, ruffling her hair as she tried to duck away. Laughing, she wriggled free and tried in vain to undo the damage. "Hey, cut that shit out. Do you even know how long it took to get this looking perfect?"

"I'm sure many brave cans of hairspray perished in the attempt," he said, then laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him and reached out to mess with her hair again. Anne batted his hand away.

Jane attempted to look reproving, but her eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mirth. She wore her own hair down in a cascade of blond curls, and she'd changed from her wedding outfit to a knee-length periwinkle dress that shimmered when the light caught it. She looked so bright and happy that, not for the first time, Anne felt a sudden spike of envy.

"You're a terrible human being," Jane told her husband. That said, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. George responded with such enthusiasm, Anne averted her eyes.

Eventually they resurfaced and George grinned at her sheepishly. "Sorry."

Anne waved his apology aside. "It's fine. Happiest day of your life and all that," she said, making sure to keep her voice light. "Well, I'm gonna go sit down for a while. You two enjoy your party."

The look on George's face was a little too knowing for Anne's taste, but he and Jane let her go with a minimum of grumbling.

It was a relief when she finally collapsed onto a barstool. Though she wasn't exactly sure what she ordered, she downed half of it when the bartender handed it over anyway, leaning back against the counter to observe the crowd.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Anne turned so fast she nearly broke her own neck. Strange men trying to chat her up in bars when she showed no indication of wanting to reciprocate was one of those unfortunate facts of life, but that didn't stop her from shutting that shit down whenever it occurred. Too late, she realized she probably should've checked to see if anyone else was at the bar before she sat down.

On the stool next to her sat a youngish man wearing dark jeans and a caramel-colored sweater that looked more expensive than Jane's wedding dress, eyeing her with an undisguised interest that instantly made her want to slap him.

"Yes," Anne said shortly, taking another sip of her drink and turning back to watch the party. Mary and William were chatting with a couple of the endless Howard cousins on the sidelines, Mary holding baby Cat. Anne knew Mary would kill to be on the dance floor right now, but she also knew you'd have to be out of your mind to trust most of their relatives with children.

"What's the occasion?"

Against her better judgement, Anne turned around again. Looking at the grin on his face, she was tempted to say "none of your business" and ignore him until he left her alone. Instead she drained her glass, then looked back to George and Jane, laughing and dancing in the middle of the floor.

It wasn't that she was particularly jealous of them or thought they didn't deserve to be happy; quite the opposite. And she knew that, strong independent woman that she was, she didn't _need _a relationship to be happy. She was twenty-seven years old; there was still time. But with both her siblings married and all Anne's recent relationships having gone down in flames . . . well, she'd gone to the bar for a reason.

She snuck another look at the man next to her, this time with a more appraising eye. He was tall, fit, and reasonably good-looking - all points in his favor. Definitely older than her, but it wasn't an insurmountable obstacle. And though she couldn't put her finger on it, something about him seemed almost familiar.

_What the hell? _ Anne decided. _This could be fun. _ Some casual flirtation might even get her out of her dating slump. Not that she wanted to date this guy, but still.

"My brother just got married," she said. "So naturally he wants everyone to party longer than any human should have to."

He laughed, blue eyes lighting up to make him even better-looking. "Wouldn't have pegged you as someone who wouldn't want to party." He tipped his head to the side curiously. "Am I wrong?"

Anne shrugged. "Well, we just met, so I'm not sure how you figured it out, but no, you're not wrong." She reached for her drink again, then remembered she'd just finished it.

"I have good intuition," he said with a smile that practically redefined the word _dazzling_ . Again, she got the feeling she'd seen him before. "But you're right - we should get to know each other better." He stuck out a hand. "My name's Henry."

Anne gave an involuntary wince and Henry raised an eyebrow. "Did I say something wrong?"

She forced a laugh, very aware of his eyes on her. "No, you're fine. Just . . ." she trailed off, unsure how to explain.

The Boleyns had a bit of a history with Henrys. A couple years back, a guy named Henry had broken Mary's heart. Anne had never met this Henry, but she'd promised to kick his ass should she ever find him. Not long after, Anne herself had been unceremoniously dumped by another Henry (which she totally wasn't still bitter about). She wasn't sure if George had ever dated a Henry; with their luck, probably.

Rather than tell him all that, she shook Henry's hand. "I'm Anne."

He had a strong grip, his skin warm and smooth. On a sudden impulse, she surreptitiously checked his fingers for a ring - things were going so well (aside from his unfortunate first name), there was no way Henry was single.

Henry's hands were large, well-groomed, and completely ring-free, although that didn't mean much by itself. Wyatt hadn't worn a ring either, and look where that had gotten her.

_Shut up__, _she scolded herself, and smiled at him. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." His eyes flitted toward her empty glass. "Can I buy you another drink?"

"Certainly." She told him her order.

His smile returned, and he leaned over the counter to talk to the bartender. When he turned back around, he said, "So, it's your brother's wedding?"

Anne could talk about George forever. "Yeah, it's pretty surprising. Our dad's been bugging him to settle down since college, but no one thought he'd actually _do _it."

He laughed again. Anne really wished his laugh wasn't so damn nice; it was throwing her off her rhythm. "Yeah, dads are like that," he said, flashing his perfect teeth. "But I like weddings. Well, fancy parties in general."

This time, it was Anne's turn to laugh. "Me too. So what brings you here? I assume you're not a wedding guest; I don't think we've met before."

He made a show of looking her over as if he was trying to determine the veracity of her statement, but, frustratingly, didn't give her any hints as to how she might know him. "Nothing that exciting, unfortunately," he said after a moment. "I'm here on business. My flight got in this morning."

"Aha." She allowed herself a grin. "That explains it."

Henry frowned, sitting up straighter. "Explains what?"

She waved a hand, trying to indicate _literally everything about him_ . "Why a guy in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater is just hanging out in a hotel bar during the wedding reception for two people you don't know."

Henry's mouth actually fell open. "Wow," he said after a moment. "Really?"

The bartender slid Anne's new drink along the counter and she knocked back the glass, maintaining eye contact as she did so. "Mm hm. Early flight, business trip - everything else follows."

He stared at her, lips moving soundlessly. Finally, he shook his head, smiling in a way that suggested he'd run through all other options for facial expressions and selected this one because it fit better than anything else. 

"Alright, I give up," he managed. "I applaud your deductive reasoning skills, Anne."

Something about the way he said her name sent a shiver up Anne's spine. "Thank you," she said, taking a little bow to cover it and tipping back her drink again. "But speaking of the wedding you didn't attend - want to know something interesting?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Tell me."

"The thing about it is that I kind of helped set my brother up with his girlfriend in the first place. Well, she's his wife now, technically. Which is _really _weird to say."

Henry leaned forward, a look of genuine interest on his face now. "What's the story?"

Anne smiled. "Well . . ."

She told him how the whole thing had unfolded, to the best of her knowledge, probably in more detail than she should have. Henry was an excellent audience. He laughed at all her jokes, even the ones that weren't particularly funny, and his eyes never left her face while she spoke. Anne found herself fascinated with the curves of his lips, how the soft yellow light molded itself to the contours of his face and illuminated the rosy flush spread across his cheekbones. When she finished her second drink, he bought her another, waving aside her protests but agreeing to let her pay for one of his.

"So the moral of the story," she finished, fighting laughter at something Henry had said (_like five minutes ago; get your shit together_ ), "is that I am an expert matchmaker."

"Mm." Henry's eyes moved downward, then back to her face. "You can say that again."

"Okay: I'm an expert matchmaker." She let herself laugh now, sipping from her glass and setting it down with an audible _clunk_ . 

He eyed said glass, now almost empty. "Want another?"

She shook her head, though more laughter kept bubbling up inside her like champagne. "Probably not a good idea for me to get trashed tonight. I'm already a little -" she gestured vaguely - "y'know."

He smirked at her. "Lightweight."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Anyone would get tipsy if you kept buying them drinks."

He started to say something else (probably that not everyone was a hundred pounds soaking wet), then apparently thought better of it. Instead, he rested one elbow on the counter and leaned toward her, smiling that dazzling smile. "Well, if you don't want to keep drinking, maybe we could go out for dinner sometime?"

Seeing Anne frown, he tacked on, "I'm not saying right now -"

"Good," Anne said. "Because I think you're supposed to go for dinner with someone _before _getting drunk with them."

"- but, you know, sometime."

Anne thought about it. Vaguely, she remembered thinking something about not wanting to date this guy at the beginning of their conversation, but that wasn't really a reason to say no. Besides, she'd enjoyed herself more while talking to Henry than she had on any of her last few dates.

"Sure," she said eventually. "Sounds like fun."

He _beamed_ at her. And she'd thought his laugh was bad. "Alright, then. Can I give you my number?"

She handed him her phone, watched him input the number, then tucked it back into her clutch. And that was that.

Thinking to end on a high note, she said, "I should probably get back to the party now."

A flicker of surprise registered on Henry's features, but he smoothed out his expression and nodded, a bit too quickly. "Right. Of course. They'll be missing you."

Tempted though she was to leave it at that, Anne couldn't resist a final joke. "Honestly? My family's enormous; I think they've probably all forgotten me by now."

He leaned forward again, his smile teasing, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I'm sure that's not the case. You, Anne, are exceedingly memorable."

Warmth pooled in her stomach and her face, only a little because of the alcohol. She was rather proud of the steadiness of her voice when she replied, "And you as well."

Slipping off the stool, she was halfway into the crowd before she risked a glance back. Henry's eyes were still on her, bright and completely unwavering.

***

Anne sat bolt upright in bed. All the puzzle pieces suddenly clicked together. "Fuck," she said. Her thoughts were racing; she couldn't believe she'd missed it. "_Fuck_ ," she said again, and lunged for her phone.

She called George three times in a row, practically vibrating with impatience as she waited. Finally, she heard him pick up. 

"What?" he mumbled groggily. On his end, blankets rustled, and Jane's voice said something she couldn't make out.

Anne gripped her phone tightly. "I think Henry Tudor hit on me at your wedding reception."

Silence. Then:

"_Fuck_ ," George said. "Tell me everything."


End file.
